maternal line skating futures in hans brinker passages...

FDR Memorial, Washington D.C.

the raining constrictive virtues at the social services building

I am felt in the unseen

part of my self-discussion therapy

a bus stop turnstile uterus

clicking counting system

I am overheard, in line

whispering about the woman

in front of me

how many kids do you have ma'am

can you have more ma’am

you know

every sperm is sacred ma'am

I pretend to look

like what John Cleese would do

the base pyramid system

heavy loading sarcasm

for the top to hold up

here, life is scattered

in the river wide wheat fields

in rolling hilled distances

here, life is what you can carry

you scour up intent

in the bowels and beauty

of an old city

you base hope in the salvaging

of each slow train wreck

of each pirate ship humanity

scuttled for comfort

in any of those moments

you were one away

from boarding to paradise

you ma’am can be construed

as a soft sandy bay

palm trees and saw grasses

fanning the wind

in washboard rhythms

an educational opportunity

spread throughout

this drop ceiling white light forest

windowed apathy disguised

as vacation literature

and free food

here ma’am, every morning is

our glossy thick matted design

scratch-off lottery chance

incapable of paying out

what our worth in ovum

and every day sunshine is

like that poster about malnutrition

we look for light, waiting for angels

in the form of answers and

helpful suggestions

but here, ma’am

it is always raining something

so I suggest you paint the underbelly

of your umbrella a bright yellow

EJR ©